


feelings are fatal

by toughcatto



Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ghani Zulham and his feelings, M/M, Pining, Slow Dancing, he doesnt know how to deal with feelings, i just want ghazul to pine, no betas we die like illiterates, theres nothing resembling a plot, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-04-11 19:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21572401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toughcatto/pseuds/toughcatto
Summary: Feelings are terrifying and Ghani has spent many years alone and alone, he forgot how toproperlydeal with the squirming, twisting sensations in his stomach.
Relationships: Ghani Zulham (Ghazul)/Ganda Hamdan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	feelings are fatal

Sometimes, Ghani wonders if Ganda is really that obtuse. He has a sinking suspicion that the man is playing with him but when their eyes meet, his doubts melt away. Ghani isn't even sure that Ganda could do such things—well, to him, at least.

It starts like this:

Ganda has been fidgety for the last few days and to say that it doesn't grate on his nerves is a lie. Ghani sighs, turning around to face the man and he stops short upon catching the look in Ganda's face.

Ghani narrows his eyes a little. "Ada apa?" The other man has a sheepish grin on his face and it never means anything good,  _ ever _ .

"Pak," Ganda steps closer, head ducked a little. "Anu, saya mau tanya sesuatu boleh?"

It takes an effort not to roll his eyes. Ghani waves a hand dismissively before tucking his hands in his pockets. "Kamu baru aja tanya sesuatu."

Ganda blinks, a stumped look crossing his face upon hearing Ghani's words. A huff escapes Ghani, and with an impatient wave of his hand, he urges Ganda to do it anyway. The beaming smile Ganda gives him is a little too dazzling, especially in this dimly lit museum.

"Bapak," Ganda starts, looking oddly nervous, "besok malam kosong ngga?"

When Ghani doesn't answer, Ganda continues in a rushed voice, still wringing his hands. "Anu, saya harus datang kondangan dan harus bawa pasangan. Kalau ngga datang ngga enak, teman sendiri soalnya, tapi saya ngga ada orang buat diajak…" His voice trails out and something akin to a grimace slides across his face.

But Ganda doesn't flinch when Ghani lands his eyes on him, so that means he definitely needs someone to go with him. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Ghani nods his head wearily.

"Jam berapa?  _ Dresscode _ nya apa?"

It's amusing to see Ganda gaping at him, mouth hanging open like a fish. Ghani tilts his head to a side, trying and failing to hide back an exasperated smile, before he exhales heavily. "Ganda? Besok jam berapa?"

"Oh," Ganda blinks as he snaps out of his reverie, though he's still staring at Ghani with wide eyes. "Bapak beneran mau nemenin saya?"

When Ghani only favors him a dry look, Ganda grins sheepishly. "Jam 7 malam, Pak. Saya pakai kemeja dan jas." He pauses, hand scratching his unruly beard. "Besok saya jemput bapak aja, biar ngga ribet."

Ghani is about to turn around when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. A narrowed look aimed at Ganda causes the other man to twitch and removes his hand entirely, but he's smiling at Ghani. "Terima kasih, Pak!"

Maybe this is not so bad, Ghani muses to himself. His eyes are locked on the ceilings, staring but unseeing as his mind wanders away. It's a whim, to indulge Ganda like this, but the man has been nothing but loyal and dedicated to him. Unlike Pengkor, he doesn't have any hidden intentions towards Ghani and it almost surprises him that he actually trusts Ganda.

This is the least he can do for Ganda. Ghani bites back a sigh before turning around, motioning Ganda to follow him and walks out of the building.

* * *

It's sometimes past 6 when Ghani feels his phone buzzes on a nearby table. A peek of the screen tells him that it's Ganda, and without answering his phone, he knows that Ganda is outside his place.

True to his guess, Ganda is standing in front of his door, dressed in a fitting red shirt and a coat slung over his shoulder. It's a good look on him, Ghani realizes with a blink.

"Ganda." The man twitches and immediately shoving his phone into his pocket before he turns around— "kamu cukur jenggot?"

Ganda grins sheepishly, one hand touching his neatly trimmed beard. "Iya, Pak. Malu, masa bapak rapi begini tapi saya engga." He tilts his head, gesturing to the car behind him. "Kita berangkat sekarang?"

It's a  _ really _ good look on him and it surprises Ghani that he even thinks this way. "Sekarang banget?" he says instead, shaking his head out of his thoughts. His hands reach up to fasten his tie—it tangles in the middle, drawing a frustrated frown to his face.

To his surprise, Ganda takes a step towards him and with a look of concentration, he helps Ghani adjusting his tie. "Tempatnya agak jauh, Pak," Ganda returns, oblivious to Ghani's bewildered eyes on him, "takutnya sampe sana kemaleman."

"Udah beres, Pak," Ganda finally says with an air of satisfaction, patting Ghani's chest. "Bapak ganteng banget sih, saya jadi minder." He lets out a laugh as he steps back, leaving Ghani standing in a stunned silence. "Saya tunggu di mobil ya, Pak."

Even after Ganda walks away, Ghani is, to put it mildly, disconcerted. His chest is warm, the imprint of Ganda's touch is still lingering, and Ghani feels something under his ribcage twists at the thought. He is familiar to attraction, but he has no time for it right now, not when it's  _ Ganda _ , out of all people. He just—can't. 

The drive to the venue is uneventful. Ghani doesn't allow himself to fidget but it's near, nerves thrumming through his veins. The place is looming above them and as they make to enter the venue, Ghani turns to Ganda. "Kamu bakal ngenalin saya sebagai siapa, kalau ada yang tanya?"

Ganda hums at that, placing himself firmly next to Ghani. There is a gust of cold wind that brushes his face and it's an automatic response for Ghani to shudder a little. He's not a fan of cold weather and never will. Ganda notices that, of course he does, and he ushers Ghani into the venue.

"Teman saya, Pak." His voice is hesitant and Ganda has a worried look on his face. "Ngga apa-apa 'kan, Pak?"

_ Teman, eh? _ Ghani smiles a little at that, covering the lower half of his face with his palm. "Panggil saya Ghani kalau begitu."

The smile on the other man's face is bright and he nods his head eagerly, probably relieved that Ghani is accepting that so easily. "Baik, P—Ghani. Pak."

"Jangan formal-formal," Ghani huffs, forcing himself to step closer to Ganda and slings an arm around the other man's back. He feels Ganda stiffens against him, but the other man only shoots him a surprised look. "'Kan kita teman."

Ghani doesn't know why he does this. Out of all the things he expects himself to do,  _ crushing _ on Ganda Hamdan is not on the list and for the first time in his life, Ghani feels as if someone has just pulled the rug under his feet. Ganda is someone who grows on him, he supposes, and the next thing Ghani knows, it's a full-blown attraction.

_ Sialan _ . He needs a drink.

Ghani is about to untangle himself from Ganda as the other man leans close, lips nearly brushing his ear. His lungs burn at the sudden intake of breath, face heating up from the close proximity.

"Saya mau ketemu pengantinnya dulu, Pak. Bapak cari makan dulu aja." His voice is pitched low, but a gust of warm breath against his earlobe draws a shudder out of Ghani, in a way that doesn't have anything to do with the cold wind from the air conditioner. He nods dumbly, nearly groaning at the sudden disappearance of Ganda's warm presence against him, and he skulks out to a nearby stall for something to eat.

He hasn't been here for 15 minutes and the need to run away from here is strong. There are booze, thankfully, so Ghani sticks himself to a stool in the minibar and watches with a rueful smile as Ganda seems to shine amongst nameless and faceless people. He's laughing, fearsome facade he often puts on in public forgotten, and when his eyes land on Ghani, they grow wide.

"Ghani!" Ganda calls out, voice breathless from walking all the way through the venue just to get to Ghani. "Aku cariin dari tadi, ternyata kamu di sini." His gaze lands on an empty lowball glass near Ghani and he huffs, settling on an empty seat.

"Maaf lama, Pak," Ganda leans close, gnawing on his lower lip. Ghani finds himself unable to avert his gaze away. "Tadi papasan sama teman-teman yang lain."

When Ghani only smiles at him, Ganda tilts his head. "Bapak mau pulang sekarang?" 

Ghani often forgets that beneath all his blusters, Ganda is actually susceptible to his slightest change of mood. He shakes his head, exhaling quietly. "Nanti aja dulu. Kamu udah jauh-jauh ke sini, belum ngobrol sama teman-teman kamu yang lain  _ masa _ udah pulang lagi."

Ganda blinks at that, brows drawn into a slight frown before he lights up with a grin. "Bapak mau saya kenalin ke teman-teman saya ngga? Barangkali ada yang cocok gitu." 

"Cocok gimana?" Ghani couldn't help but frown a little as Ganda tugs him up to his feet, arm around his.

"Ya gitu," Ganda says vaguely, still with his arm linked with Ghani's, "daripada bapak minum sendirian di bar, mending ikut saya aja, Pak." 

He should've stayed in the bar. Against Ganda's friends, Ghani keeps himself on Ganda's side exclusively the rest of the night, only smiling when people stare at him, and sipping on his orange juice.  _ Orange juice _ , what even is this. 

Several people have eyed him with interest, namely Ganda's women friends, but Ghani only nods his head politely, even when hands wander on his body. "Ghani, ya?" One of them says in a low, sultry voice, long fingers sprawled on his chest. "Mau dansa sama saya?"

"Heh,  _ grepe-grepe  _ aja," comes Ganda's voice from his right and with a scowl, he slaps those wandering hand away. Ghani lets out a quiet exhale of relieved breath when the hand disappears, glancing at Ganda. The other man looks oddly furious, but when he stares back at Ghani, it's with a faint smile.

"Posesif bener, bos," one of his friend quips, causing laughter to roar from the small group, "katanya cuma temen."

Ganda lets out a biting retort, but Ghani doesn't pay attention to it. He has his focus somewhere else, namely the dancefloor where several couples are swaying in a slow dance there. It would be great if he could dance with Ga—

Hold up, pause.  _ What? _

"Ganda," Ghani calls out suddenly, voice tight. "Kita pulang sekarang." Without waiting for a response, Ghani places his glass on a table and heads to the door, Ganda hots on his heels.

"Maaf ya, Pak," Ganda says on the drive back home. "Teman-teman saya emang suka begitu." There is a grimace on his face but Ghani waves it away. He probably mistook his sudden request to go home due to discomfort but it's—not.

"Ngga apa-apa, teman-teman kamu asik kok." It's a lie and the way Ganda snorts makes Ghani bristles a little—is he calling him  _ out _ ?

"Makasih ya, Pak, udah nemenin saya," Ganda demurs as Ghani gets out of his car, "maaf merepotkan juga."

Ghani smiles a little at that, but the curve on his lips is mostly obscured from sight. "Sama-sama."

His hand freezes on the door before Ghani could slam it shut and—it's another whim to turn around and offers Ganda a smile. From the look in the other man's face, he's equally surprised. "Selamat malam, Ganda."

Without waiting for a response, Ghani shuts the door close and walks into his place. He thinks about it for a long time—this irrational whims and urges to make Ganda smiles and the images of him and Ganda  _ dancing— _

_ Fuck this shit, he's as toasted as he can gets _ .

* * *

It doesn't happen once. In fact, it happens two, three, four times where Ganda has to ask Ghani to be his plus-one to a party and it's four times more than what Ghani has expected. He never said no anyway.

And he never asked Ganda for a dance.

There's an envelope sitting outside his door when Ghani opens his door to retrieve his daily newspaper. He's tempted to leave it by because he has a guess of what it could be and no, Ghani doesn't want to attend any party  _ again _ . Unless Ganda asks him to, but that's an exception.

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Maybe he could—

As expected, it's a wedding reception invitation, from an acquaintance Ghani couldn't even remember. Frowning to himself, he reads the card absentmindedly, plopping down on a couch. The invitation is for two people, Ghani has to roll his eyes at that but he—stops. Heart hammering in his chest, he sits up straighter, eyes wide.

Maybe, he—yes, he's definitely going to do it.

Ganda is staring wide-eyed in surprise at him when he asks him, but Ghani refuses to back down.

"Bapak mau saya nemenin bapak," he repeats, still sounding incredulous, "ke kawinan teman bapak?"

"Nikahan," Ghani corrects, not bothering to keep irritation off his voice. Ganda is still frowning at him.

"Saya mau sih, Pak, tapi," he pauses, sounding hesitant now, "tapi—"

"'Kan saya udah sering nemenin kamu ke nikahan temen kamu," Ghani grouses, unable to hold back his grumble, "sekarang gantian."

It's a hard feat for Ghani not to smirk in satisfaction when Ganda finally relents, nodding his head. "Pakai baju  _ casual _ , ngga usah pakai dasi."

"Besok saya jemput," Ghani adds, biting back a grin, "acaranya pagi, jadi sebelum jam 7 kita harus berangkat."

When Ganda answers, it's with an underlying grumble in it. "Baik, Pak." He looks like a sulking puppy and it makes Ghani wants to pat his cheek, just for laughs.

* * *

The next morning, Ghani could see why Ganda is reluctant to go out in the morning. The man is barely awake as he slides into the car but he's dressed neatly. He's donning a fitting black button-down which has two buttons opens and wine colored slacks, hands clutching a black fedora and matching burgundy red coat. Ghani snorts at the half-lidded glare Ganda gives him but—

"Wah, Pak, baju kita samaan," Ganda lights up as his eyes land on Ghani, sitting up straighter. Ghani scowls at him but doesn't deny the claim—it's true, he's wearing a grey turtleneck and a black slacks, but the blazer he's sporting is wine colored. "Kok bisa samaan sih, Pak?"

That's what Ghani is about to ask too so he remains silent, responding with a shrug of his shoulder. It's hard to keep his focus on the road when Ganda is sitting next to him, looking unfairly attractive even in his drowsy state—he couldn't help but stealing glances at the currently napping man, letting his gaze roam along the exposed skin of his chest.

_ Sialan _ , Ghani jerks his head to bring his eyes back to the road, just in time to avoid a block of road divider, and the car screeches to the left. The designated venue is a long way to go and Ghani can't wait to finally arrive.

It's too early to get drunk but Ghani has a glass of vodka—he bullies the bartender for it—and he's sitting alone in a round table. Ganda is somewhere, loitering around and probably flirting with someone else, and Ghani couldn't help but scowl at the thought. He should've gone home after congratulating the bride and groom and he definitely shouldn't have listened to Ganda, who wants to at least grab something to eat before they head home. Now the older man is nowhere in sight and all Ghani can do is sighing wearily.

"Zulham," a cheery voice calls out from behind him and for a moment, Ghani thinks it's Ganda but, no, he never calls him by his last name. A man appears on his line of vision and he's familiar in some ways, but Ghani couldn't put his head on it. "Apa kabar?"

Ghani tilts his head, letting his gaze roams along the man. He is tall, dressed smartly for the occasion, and he's attractive, without a doubt. The man laughs when he doesn't answer, but he sits down on an empty chair next to him. "Ngga ingat sama saya, ya?"

"Maaf," Ghani offers finally, letting a smile touching his lips, "saya ngga ingat." Something about this man is intimately familiar, in a way, but still, while Ghani has amazing memories, he just couldn't seem to remember.

"Dulu kita pernah ketemu," the other says absent-mindedly, leaning back against the chair. "Sendirian aja?" The way he stares at Ghani is full of interest and he leans close, right into Ghani's personal space.

Ghani frowns, dropping his polite pretense, and inches away from the man. "Ngga, tadi saya sama teman." Who's nowhere to be seen, God damn it, Ganda Hamdan.

He's starting to regret this, coming to the party, because the man only grins at him and being completely oblivious to his discomfort. "Saya kira sendirian. Kalau sendirian mau saya ajak jalan-jalan." The man pauses, head tilted to a side. "Teman kamu lagi sibuk 'kan? Tinggalin aja, pergi sama saya."

Oh, now Ghani remembers who the hell this man is, not the name but at least why the man seems familiar to him. A one-night stand from his younger years and it's surprising that the man still remembers him. Still, one-night stands are supposed to be for one time only so Ghani shakes his head.

"Ngga, makasih. Saya mau cari teman saya aja." And that's his cue to leave. Ghani offers the man another smile, this time it's stilted and cold, and goes to stand to his feet but a strong hand gripping his forearm stops him short. It doesn't hurt, but it's uncomfortable enough to cause Ghani to frown.

"Kok pergi? Tunggu sini 'lah, temani saya." Why do the crazy and possessive ones always find him? Ghani sighs and tries to lodge the hand off. The man doesn't budge and something dangerous flickers in his eyes.

"Saya mau cari teman saya," he repeats, not bothering to hide his irritation. Ghani doesn't usually resort to violence but cornered like this, he takes a deep breath, hand forming a fist on his side.

Hurried steps approach them and Ghani knows, without glancing backwards, that it's Ganda. True to his guess, Ganda comes bringing several plates of food. "Ghani, saya bawa—" His words are cut short, replaced by a low, menacing noise. "Siapa lo? Ngapain pegang-pegang Ghani?"

Ganda's words makes the other man bristle in indignation. He gets to his feet and lets go of Ghani's forearm, but he takes a menacing step closer to Ganda. "Ganda," Ghani calls out softly, noting that the man in question is geared for a fight, "jangan."

When Ganda doesn't respond, Ghani turns around with a sigh and reaches out to pat his chest. "Ganda." The man is still supporting a frown as he stares at the stranger, shoulders a tense line. "Ganda, ayo, kita belum dansa."

That gets a reaction from the other man. Ganda blinks, looking dumbfounded, and it gives Ghani the momentum to stir him around and ushers him to the dancefloor. Ghani glances backwards to see that the man has retreated away and he lets out a sigh.

"Seriusan kita mau, anu, dansa, Pak?" Ganda says it as if the word leaves a strange taste on his tongue. It's another impulse, a whim, to drag Ganda here but at this time, Ghani is relieved to have gotten away from his ex bed-mate. "Saya ngga bisa joget lho, Pak."

"Ngga apa-apa, ikutin saya aja." Just as Ghani says that, the song changes to a slow, jazz song. In front of him, Ganda perks up, eyes bright with recognition.

"Oh! Saya tau lagu ini, Pak!" Ghani has to smile at that, at his enthusiastic remark, and—pauses. He's got Ganda here and it's no time for hesitation, lest someone is going to steal Ganda away from him. Squaring himself, Ghani reaches out to take Ganda's hands in his to put a hand on his waist and holds the other one in his, lifting them up a little.

The other man appears nervous, as if touching Ghani will set him on fire but he obediently steps closer when Ghani places his hand on his waist. "Pelan-pelan aja, kalau bisa jangan injak kaki saya," Ghani warns but it lacks the heat he intends to insert. The close proximity and Ganda's warm hands on his shoulders are making him a little weak in the knees—taking a breath is hard, lest it stutters in his chest.

Ganda is stiff against him as they sway to the song, but Ghani doesn't think he's less tense. He could feel Ganda's eyes on him but he couldn't bring himself to stare at the other man. It's fear and worry, mingling into one heavy knot at the pit of his stomach. He doesn't even know if Ganda  _ likes _ men, for God's sake. 

"Pak, yang tadi itu siapa?" Thank goodness for Ganda and his inability to stand silent. Ghani drags his eyes from where he's staring blankly at something behind Ganda to the other man, only to find him frowning.

"Saya pernah tidur sama dia dulu." Ghani meant to say that he was a friend, an acquaintance, but Ganda has seen his brief interaction with him and his reaction was not something two friends could have. To his surprise, the other man's expression doesn't change. In fact, Ganda appears guilty.

"Maaf ya, Pak, saya tadi  _ ngilang _ ," he says, brows drawn into a frown. "Kalau saya ngga  _ ngilang _ 'kan dia ngga bakalan deketin bapak lagi."

It startles a laugh out of Ghani, who ducks his head a little to hide his smile. "Nama saya, Ganda," Ghani corrects as a response, "masa kamu tetap panggil saya 'Pak' kalau saya pegang-pegang kamu gini?"

"Dan ngga masalah, saya bisa nge _ handle _ dia sendiri." Ghani really could, but he wouldn't resort to violence in public. He has a small knife up his sleeve if things go south, but he has an image to maintain.

Ganda falls silent after that and so does Ghani, but they don't stop swaying. "Pak," Ganda murmurs, making Ghani blinks in surprise, "Ghani," he tries again, this time with a sheepish grin, "ini—ngga apa-apa?"

Ghani knows what he's talking about, but he tilts his head, raising one brow. "Maksudnya?"

"Ya, ini," Ganda reiterates with a frown, "bapak 'kan ngga suka dipegang-pegang."

While his words hold somewhat of a truth there, Ghani shakes his head. "Saya ngga masalah," he murmurs quietly, heaving out a sigh. He remembers nights of drunken shenanigans and he's always strict even on bed. No touches, no kisses. Ghani doesn't like having someone's hand on him but—

It's another whim when he stares at Ganda, eyes soft and unflinching. "Saya ngga masalah kalau itu kamu."

"Oh," comes the equally quiet reply. The hand on his grip spasm lightly and this is it, Ghani braces himself for a moment of desolation when Ganda finally distances himself from Ghani—if it happens, it happens. "Kalau saya kaya gini, ngga apa-apa?"

Ghani feels a pair of arms grow tight around his shoulders, pulling him close as a result and it brings heat to his face. "Ganda," Ghani murmurs, voice hitching because their chests are  _ nearly pressed _ against each other and it's unfairly distracting, "jangan macam-macam sama saya." He aims for a threat, pitching his voice into a growl, but judging from the way Ganda chuckles, it doesn't work.

The other man is warm against him and he smells faintly of patchouli and cedarwood, with a hint of sweet citrus underneath it that makes Ghani wants to lean in and hides his face on one broad shoulder. "Saya mana berani macam-macam sama bapak," Ganda says easily, thumb running along the base of his neck. Ghani doesn't know whether it's intentional or not.

Ghani finally relents. He leans in to rest his head on the other man's shoulder, arm hugging his waist, and the way Ganda pulls his closer releases a tension he doesn't know he has. "Tujuan kamu dari awal minta saya nemenin kamu ke nikahan teman kamu buat ini 'kan?" He aims for teasing but, to his surprise, Ganda nods, albeit sheepishly.

"Saya ngga nyangka bapak ngeiyain permintaan saya," Ganda says and his voice is quiet, shy. "Saya 'kan cuma asisten bapak. Suruhan bapak."

"'Ghani'," he huffs, lifting his head to stare at Ganda, "panggil saya Ghani. Dan kamu lebih dari sekadar asisten saya." Now that the words are out, Ghani feels his face heats up from the confession— _ why is he acting like a prepubescent in love?  _ Embarrassing.

When they pull away from each other, it's reluctant, at least to Ghani. His nose is tingling from the smell of Ganda's perfume but he finds it addicting, somehow. He wants to wrap him with it and not letting go, ever.

"Ghani?" The way his name rolls off Ganda's tongue so effortlessly sends heat rising up his cheeks, but Ghani meets the other man's eyes without flinching. "Nanti mampir rumah saya, mau?"

_ God _ , this twisting feeling deep under his ribcage and the warmth rising up in his chest are ridiculous. Ghani is tempted to call this love but no,  _ no,  _ too early for that. He doesn't know what tomorrow will bring, where this will lead them to.

But—

Ganda is smiling at him, so fond that it makes his tooth aches from the sweetness of it, and Ghani admits his defeat as he nods his head. Feelings are terrifying and he forgets how to act like a proper human, but Ghani is sure Ganda will be there to guide him.

**Author's Note:**

> the song ganda and ghani dance to is unforgettable by nat king cole. also, im having too much fun writing pining!ghani. prolly gonna write a sequel to this from ganda's pov. theyre both pining but theyre oblivious smh


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